The Weight of Time
Given time, we start to ask,
Am I light, or am I dark?
Is the line that splits the two
etched in stone, or blurred in view?
What is "Good," and what is "Bad"?
Are these truths we’ve always had?
Do they shift like drifting sand,
formed by heart or guiding hand?
Judgment cuts, yet sometimes mends,
harsh or fair, it twists, it bends.
Some will rise with steady grace,
some will fall and lose their place.
To ease our pain, we learn to give,
a quiet way to help us live.
For suffering, when left untamed,
will spread like fire, untold, unnamed.
And so we learn, we play our part,
not out of selfless, noble heart,
but seeking balance, lessening strife,
in hopes of finding peace in life.
Yet if our morals shift in time,
rewritten like a poet’s rhyme,
can they be twisted, torn, replaced,
to fit the fears that we embrace?
If kindness grows from learned refrain,
then cruelty, too, can leave a stain.
If we are taught to heal, to trust,
we, too, can learn to strike, to crush.
Given time, the world will show
the seeds we plant, the paths we sow.
And when the question calls again,
who will we be by journey’s end?
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